


Towards Home

by RavenGrey



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Angst, Comforting Simon, Gen, Gender-Neutral Runner Five, Guilt, Hugging, PTSD, Simon being Simon, Simon might be the teeniest bit in love with Runner 5, Traumatized Runner 5, Very mild Simon/Runner 5, hand holding, rivers of angst, spoilers for s3m44
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3815980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You want to go home. You’ve never wanted anything more in your life, with tears slipping down your cheeks and soaking Simon’s shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Towards Home

**Author's Note:**

> Summaries super short because of spoilers. Edited by me, tried to keep it gender neutral but I might have slipped up so please let me know if I missed anything.
> 
> There wasn't much of Simon/Runner 5 and by the end of this mission I really wanted to fix that. This is kind of dumb but writing it was really cathartic, as I was really really freakin' upset by the end of this so here ya go??

            You haven’t been able to stop shaking, not since you murdered almost everyone on the Comansys ships with a grin on your face. Bile burns in the back of your throat and your eyes are blurry and hot with unshed tears. You stop long enough to puke again and Simon waits beside you, bouncing on the balls of his feet, a manic gleam in his eyes while he waits for you to finish.

            Your stomach is a churning mass of guilt and fear, guilt at what you’d done to all those people and an almost constant thrum of fear that you’d have your will taken from you again.

            Lauchlan had told you whatever he’d pumped you full of should stave off the mind control, but at the time he’d had eight coal black eyes and sharp fangs so you might not have him heard right, as you’d bolted in the opposite direction.

            The hallucinations are getting better, less trolls under the bridge and more swirling black vortexes where Amelia and Lauchlan’s faces should be.  You blink rapidly and the voids of black disappear. You’re hand trembles when you reach up to wipe your mouth.  

            “Get it all out 5,” Simon says cheerfully, and he sounds so normal, almost like he was, and you wish you hated him like you should “better out than in. Did you know 5? Amy’s got a sympathetic gag reflex.” He grins wickedly and Amelia gives him a look that could peel paint.

             He’s holding your hand, has been since he’d tackled you the ground after your latest escape attempt. You’re gonna have bruises. His hand is big and surprisingly warm in yours, fingers interlaced with yours so you can’t slip free. His skin feels wrong somehow and it makes your skin prickle with goose-bumps.

             Your nails are digging deep crescents into the back of his hand, but he doesn’t seem to care. He strokes him thumb over a stretch of skin on the back of your hand and it's soothing despite how badly you want to jerk your hand free. .

            You don’t hear what she says back over the roaring sound of tearing metal, screaming and the god-awful sounds Jody had made when you’d- _Jesus_. Your body jerks violently as you dry heave, covered in cold sweat and shaking so badly that you’re afraid your bones are gonna rattle loose.

             Simon’s steadying hand on your shoulder startles you so bad that you lash out with a closed fist before you can think better of it. He catches it, long fingers wrapping easy around your wrist before it connects with anything. He’s got both of your hands now and you jerk hard against his hold once before thinking better of it when it jostles your head.

             He pulls you to his chest and crushes you there while you thrash violently against him, a sob torn from low in your chest as you remember, vividly, everything Moonchild made you do.

             Every person you hurt. Every person you murdered. You think of the man in the control room, the one you left to die after you put a bullet in him. You think of every person on those ships you sentenced to die with a smile on your face and you’re sick again.

            Ed. You almost killed _Ed_. Ed who has a little girl back at Abel. Ed who was your friend. Ed who’d gotten drunk one lonely night and told you all about his Becca. Ed who you let cry himself to sleep on you and then carried him back to his room.

            And so many others. So many people dead. Because of you. You’re vaguely aware of soft, broken sounds that slip past your chattering teeth.

             Simon just crinkles his nose a little as you puke on his chest. Amelia jumps away with a disgusted shriek and maybe if you hadn’t just caused the death of so many good people you’d have chuckled.

            “That’s alright 5, happens to the best of us.”

             His hands on you should make fury boil in your blood, the firm press of his chest against yours should disgust you, but the only thing you feel is an overwhelming relief to know that someone’s there to _stop you_.

            You’d begged for them to stop you, over and over in your mind. Screamed and begged and pleaded, first with Albert and then Jody and finally Sam, your Sam, while you did as you were told.

            Slaughtered thousands of people. Hurt the people you love. You muffle a hiccupping whimper into Simon’s chest and try to keep from crying in the presence of two of Abel’s greatest traitors.

            You’d been told if felt amazing, better than amazing, but if you’d been able to scream you would have shredded your vocal cords with how much you’d raged against her control inside your head.

            You wonder if it was what Van Ark had injected you with that allowed you to stay yourself inside while your body went against everything you are.

            You feel so broken that you know you’ll never be alright after this. No amount of time will ever make what she did to you alright.

            You want to go home. You’ve never wanted anything more in your life, with tears slipping down your cheeks and soaking Simon’s shirt. You sag against him and he adjusts his hold so he’s holding you against him, supporting your weight. He’s clinging to you harder than you’re clinging to him, his arms so tight around your ribcage that it almost hurts.

            You like it. The bruising ache helps to settle you and you sniffle pathetically, all of you raw and exposed and so damn tired you wonder how you’ve managed to stay on your feet this long.

            “And _you’re_ the one who chased me out of Abel.” Amelia scoffs with vague disgust and just a tinge of amusement as she watches two people who are supposed to be enemies hug it out. She picks up her pace so she doesn’t have to watch, content to let the pair of them deal with any zombies that come their was so long as she’s safe in the van while Runner 5 gets it together.

             They’re parked in a copse of trees, just a few miles outside of Abel, and she’s keen on being as far from the township as she can get.

            It’s the safest you’ve felt since Moonchild hijacked your body and you hate yourself for it. Hate that you’re letting yourself be comforted by someone who was willing to trade people who were as good as family for immortality, but it’s Simon.  

            “It’s gonna be alright 5, we’re going to get you back to Abel.” He murmurs into your hair, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. He’s solid and very real against you and before you can think better of it you slip your arms under his and adhere yourself to his front. He doesn’t care that you’re a murderer.

             A small part of you wants to argue that it wasn’t you, that you could never do anything like that. But you did. You remember every minute, every second of what you did. It’s burned into your mind, into your heart and this crippling guilt will be with you until you die.

             You hear him swallow and think maybe he kisses the top of your head but you can’t be sure.

             “And they’re gonna take care of you like you’ve taken care of them and you’re gonna be just fine sweet-heart.” He rocks you gently from side to side, a contrast to how hard he’s squeezing you. It calms you’re racing heart and you feel less like puking your guts up.

            “I killed all those people.” You choke out, cheek smashed hard against Simon’s chest. “I hurt _Sam_.” Your voice is a strained whisper and your fists are white knuckled and clenched in Simon’s worn short.

            “Wasn’t you 5. Wanna know how I know?”

             You tilt your head up to look at him, curious despite the shattered misery that’s decided to make a home in your chest. Even the underside of his jaw is horribly scarred but he grins happily down at you.

            You wonder why he’s being so good to you. You left him to Jaimie.

            You never thought you’d owe Simon so much, but you do. God, but you do.  

            “You’re arse over tits in love with Sam and wouldn’t ever hurt a hair on his dorky little head unless some crazy bitch was riding shotgun in your head. Don’t argue,” he stops to say patronizingly when you lift your head to object “everyone knows it, ‘cept Sam. Probably thinks you too good for him.”

            He stops to squeeze you tight and you think maybe he’s taking as much comfort in this as you are. You’d never imagined the person who’d console you would be Simon, but if it wasn’t for him you’d still be trailing along behind Moonchild, doing her dirty work, until someone got lucky and put a bullet in your head.

            “Person like you was interested in me?” He says with an easy shrug “You can bet your pert arse I’d be all over that, my self-loathing and general lack of self-worth be damned.”

             Your cheeks are warm and you adamantly wish you felt less comfortable in his arms “But Sam’s gonna forgive you, and he’s gonna be there for you and everyone’s gonna forgive poor, traumatized Runner 5, don’t you worry your pretty little head.”   

             You let him hold you for a few minutes. Just let yourself be tired and scared before you pull away, reluctantly, and he lets you go. You keep your eyes on the ground, shame eating away at your insides, until he tips your chin up. You look him dead in the eye and you know what he sees.

            “God,” he laughs, face lit with an almost malicious glee “you’re in bad shape if you let me get away with that one.”

            You stomp on his foot, hard, and start off in the direction off Abel with your eyes set on the horizon, where the sun is setting. You wonder how there can be something so beautiful in a world that's so ugly. He bites out a viscous curse and hops around behind you while Amelia chortles from the van.

             Every step you take feels like a death sentence. Maybe they’ll shoot you on site. It makes you sad how hopeful a thought that was and you straighten your spine despite the weariness in your bones and the hurt in your heart.

            “Still no thank you 5?” He calls after you wryly while heading to the van, a little bitter you think, and your steps falter. You stop where you are, swaying gently with exhaustion and uncertainty.  

             “Simon.” You call out, voice thin and so frail that it manages to smother some of your crippling guilt with anger that anyone could make you feel this helpless. He stops and turns to look at you curiously.

            “Am I Simon now?” He leers back, an almost mocking smile slashed across the ruin of his face as he jogs back over to you. You think maybe you can hear an irritated groan from the van as you wait patiently for him to make his way over. He limps dramatically for effect and you pettily hope that his foot bruises

            You give him a thoroughly unimpressed look and beckon him closer. Wariness flashes in his eyes and a wisp of a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. it feels odd on your face.

            You wait silently until he’s less than a foot away and then you grab him slowly by the lapels of his coat, giving him plenty of time to stop you, and pull him to you until there are a few scant inches between the two of you.

            His pupils are blown and every muscle in his body is tense and he’s breathing a little hard. It’s gratifying to know, that even as pathetic as you are right now, he’s equal parts interested and afraid of you.

            You can see the old Simon, past the scars and everything else that makes up this new Simon, and you push up onto your toes to press a chaste kiss to his chapped lips. It’s gentle kiss, barely the feathering of your lips against his and he sucks in a breath that sounds like it hurts.

            You leave his shocked, flushed face behind as you turn and start towards Abel, towards home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't be the only person who wanted to kiss Simon by the end of that, can I???


End file.
